


Tension

by Sherlock1110, sherlockian4evr



Series: The British Government and the DI [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Hook, Angst, Ball Gag, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Chastity Device, Cock Cages, Dom John, Dom Mycroft, Dom/sub, Exhaustion, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fucking Stick, Gen, M/M, Orgasm Denial, Ring gag, Showers, Soppy, Sub Greg, Sub Sherlock, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-06
Updated: 2016-01-21
Packaged: 2018-05-12 05:24:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5654032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlock1110/pseuds/Sherlock1110, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlockian4evr/pseuds/sherlockian4evr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greg has been working hard, is up for promotion and is in desperate need of a break, not that he acknowledges that fact.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was the ninth night on the trot that Greg was sat behind his desk at New Scotland Yard way past clocking off time. One hand held a pen, the other a glass half full with brandy. It probably wasn't helping, but he couldn't find the energy to care. This was what work without Sherlock was like. Without his genius and ingenuity, Greg's work was boring and tiring.

Even Donovan was feeling the pressure, having bent so far as to ask why Sherlock wasn't available. Greg hadn't told her, of course. He couldn't very well tell her that the consulting arse had gotten on the wrong side of his ex-army Dom and had been essentially grounded.

He wished he could just phone the doctor up and beg him to let Sherlock out, but he knew there was no point. John was as stubborn as the detective could be and he wasn't about to upset the man who managed to keep the consulting git in one piece, even if Sherlock was being punished.

Anderson stuck his head in Greg's office to ask a question and the DI snapped at him, “What?!”

The forensic scientist held up his hands and backed away from the office, closing the door behind him.

Dropping his head, Greg ran his fingers through his hair, then massaged the back of his neck. He really needed a break.

“Gov.”

The DI raised his head to see Donovan. “Yeah?” He opted for something more open this time.

“The Borough Commander is here.”

The DI rubbed his hands over his face and sniffed before standing to follow his Sergeant to the Superintendent's office. So much for a break. This promised to be a long chat about things that Sherlock would quite rightly call 'dull' and 'boring'.

Over an hour later, Greg walked back to his office rubbing his eyes as a pressure built inside his skull.

“Hello Gregory.”

The DI jumped, startled. “Jesus, Mycroft! It's bad enough your brother does that to me. Don't you start.”

Mycroft frowned slightly at the younger man, that hadn't been the response he'd been going for.

“Is it important?” Greg asked.

“I've come to see my boyfriend, is that a crime now?” He looked around the office pointedly and then at the glass his lover had just filled up.

“I'm sorry, Mycroft I've got a lot on. I'll be home later.”

“You've said that every night for the past week.”

“I've been busy every night for the past week. Your brother's been locked in Baker Street. And now I've got yet another report to fill out for my boss' boss. I'll be home later,” he repeated.

“No. You'll come home now.”

Greg sagged against the door frame. “You can't come to my office and drag me home.”

“Actually, you'll find that I can and, where your health is concerned, I will.”

“I'm fine, really.”

Mycroft raised an eloquent eyebrow, allowing it to speak for him.

“Ok, yeah.” Greg ran a hand through his hair. “I'm a bit wound up. Haven't been able to relax.”

“I can see that, Gregory.”

Even so, the DI walked into his office and collapsed back behind his desk. “At no point did I agree to you interrupting me at work.”

“The rest of CID is empty, Gregory. They've all gone home.”

“That's because I'm the senior officer and I have things to do. You know the DCI job is up again? Otherwise they'd be doing this.”

“You're up for promotion?”

“I have just had a meeting discussing what it would entail. I haven't applied, but the Super seems to think I have.”

Mycroft shook his head. “Up. We're going home.”

“Myc-”

“No arguments. This can wait until the morning.”

Greg stubbornly remained in his seat.

“You won't get promoted for burning yourself out. You'll get put on mandatory leave and that's without my intervention.” Mycroft walked around the desk and reached out a hand to stroke over the DI's cheek. “Let me take you home. Let me take care of you. That's my job.”

Eyes falling shut, Greg took a deep breath and nodded. Maybe Mycroft was right.

“Can I at least-”

Mycroft pulled his sub to his feet by his tie, spun him around and pushed him face first into the wall. He rammed his arm up his back and Greg moaned despite himself. Mycroft leant back and grabbed the DI's jacket from the back of the chair and forced his sub's arms into it, replacing his grip on his hand and neck. Next, the government official plucked the cuffs from the desk and wrapped them around his partner's wrists. He grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and dragged him from his office.

Greg wondered to himself - he wasn't angry. Instead he felt free. It was as if the weight of his every responsibility had been lifted from his shoulders. He was so relieved he didn't care who saw him being manhandled - Anderson, Donovan, even his boss. Luckily Scotland Yard was empty, Mycroft must have known that, as he pulled him roughly from the building swiping the DI's card to sign him out as he went. He dragged him to the black jaguar waiting and pushed him in. He tugged him from the chair and pushed him to his knees in the back of the vehicle.

Greg lay his head in his Dom's lap, rubbing his cheek against the smooth fabric of Mycroft's expensive suit. The tension of the past few days slowly started to recede, not fading completely, but settling into the background.

The Dom's hand pushed through his hair and was gripped tightly. Greg felt a bit more of that tension drift away. That was when he realised it wasn't the gentle Mycroft that he needed, it was that rough Mycroft. The hard, dominating, yet caring tone grounded the DI and as the grip in his hair receded, he moaned and complained without actually speaking which made the older man laugh, tugging again.

Greg didn't want to talk, even to make his wishes known. That would be too much like taking control, and he wanted anything but that. He, instead, tried to pull away from his Dom. The results were having his head pulled back and being forced to look Mycroft in the eyes.

“Is this what you want?” Mycroft asked. “A bit of rough?”

Greg just blinked and pulled his head away again.

“Uh, no, boy.”

Mycroft pushed his head down to make him face the floor and Greg just sighed in relief. He twisted around slightly and rested his head on his Dom's foot.

“Back on your knees, brat.”

Greg bit the inside of his cheek as he debated just how rough he wanted it. When Mycroft grabbed him by the collar and pulled him up, he realised his moment's hesitation had made his decision for him.

The older man pulled him up and over his lap and let his palm come down hard one, two, three, ten times before pushing him back to the floor again. “That was for hesitating,” Mycroft said, his arousal evident in his voice alone.

Greg's arse ached nicely and his concerns had finally fled. He only regretted that Mycroft had spanked him through his trousers, depriving him the sweet sting of flesh against flesh.

The car jolted slightly as it pulled up outside of their apartment. Mycroft kept his sub's head low as he pulled him out the back and up to their front door. They'd be no scene tonight, just Greg being a pliable toy in the service mode that he had been so fond of. Even if Greg pushed, Mycroft was determined to keep things rather low key. He might have to explain his logic in the morning, but he knew what his pet needed better than Greg did. He released the cuffs. “Get out of your clothes, Pet, then I'll let you undress me.”

Greg frowned, but immediately began to get undressed. He folded his clothes and placed them to the side. “Why aren't we-”

Mycroft held a finger up to his lips to shh him and Greg took it into his mouth.

“No, pet. You do what I say when I say.”

“But-” Greg closed his mouth and, still frowning, assisted Mycroft off with his clothes, then started to kneel. He was stopped by his Dom's hand on his upper arm.

“Fetch my dressing gown, two snifters of brandy and the massage oil.”

Shaking his head slowly, the DI turned on his heel and made his way through to the sitting room. A feeling of discontent was starting to make itself known. “If we're just going to sit and drink all night I could do that back at work.”

Mycroft clamped down on his gut reaction, something he was quite good at, and said simply, “Do as I say, Gregory.”

When the DI returned, dressing gown draped over his arm, brandy in hand and the massage oil tucked under his armpit, it was to find the lights dimmed and soft, soothing music playing in the background. He gaped. “Seriously, Mycroft?”

The government official merely shrugged.

“I've got so much on at the moment, with so much stuff I need to do and you're being all… weird.”

“I'm acting as your Dom, in your best interest, a fact you will respect.” He took the dressing gown and pulled it on, then gestured to the sofa. “Now, lay down on your stomach.”

Once again a frown returned to Greg's face. “I was under the impression you'd drag me home, fuck me quickly and then let me get back to work, to do what I'm good at.”

“Well, your impression was wrong.”

Greg stopped himself from tossing the brandy, but just barely. He set the snifters on the coffee table and let the massage oil fall to the floor. “I've got to get back to work.”

Mycroft didn't like leg work, but he was damned good at it. With a practiced move, he had the DI face down on the sofa. “That's the end of that. You will not move from that spot until I give you permission.” It was obvious that Greg thought he had won, but Mycroft knew better. Keeping his knee pressed in the small of his sub's back, he bent and retrieved the massage oil.

Greg shifted and moved beneath the Dom and Mycroft dropped the bottle again. He grabbed the DI's arms and forced them behind him. “What is it with you?” Mycroft asked, throwing all caution to the wind.

“I was busy!”

“You still are.” He bent down and spoke into Greg's ear. “Being my sub doesn't mean automatically getting what you want. It means giving me control.” He sat back up. “Unless, of course, you choose to safe word, but I must caution you against abusing it.”

“Of course I don't want to safe word!” Greg snapped. He fought and fought until his arms were released. All the tension and stress over the last few days had just been waiting to explode in anger. “You never do anything to me that would make me want to safe word, but work is important to me, like yours is to you.”

“I'm not saying it's not, Gregory. You need to learn to trust me, I know what you need.”

“What, and I don't?” He forced his way to his feet, breathing heavily.

“Actually, I don't believe you do. However, perhaps I am incorrect. It does happen occasionally, after all.” Mycroft put his government official's mask in place and turned away, hiding his hurt. “Why don't you run along, then? I'll see you when your 'work' makes time for me.”

Greg stood there for a moment, staring at the back of his lover's head. He knew he was trying to hide what he was really thinking, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He was too angry to want to. He made his way over to his pile of clothes and began dressing.

Much to the DI's surprise, Mycroft didn't try to stop him. He made it three blocks before his anger had burned itself out, leaving a low smouldering shame in its place. “Damn! I am such a prick.” He wheeled about, staring back in the direction he had come, wondering if, this time, he had pushed Mycroft away beyond his reach. He hailed a cab and despite the fact it was 12:30 he knew who wouldn't be asleep. “Baker Street, please,” he said to the cabby.

Greg chewed his bottom lip for the entire journey and by the time he'd paid the driver and climbed out, he was nearly in tears. He sank down to the doorstep and, rather than knock, wrapped his arms around his knees.

Sherlock had been standing at the window, looking out on the night time activity below. His brow furrowed at seeing Lestrade walking along the pathway. The man knew he was 'grounded', hateful word, so why would he be coming to Baker Street? Ah, his shoulders were hunched and the way he held himself... Sherlock turned and rushed down the stairs, not caring that his actions were fuelled by sentiment.

“Sherlock Holmes!” John yelled. He knew Mrs. Hudson was with her sister, so he didn't bother to put a damper on his voice. He appeared as Sherlock was about to unlock the door and grabbed his collar.

“I'm not running away, sir, honest.”

“Then what are you doing charging down the stairs in the middle of the night?”

“Let me open the door, sir, and I'll show you.”

John nodded once, but didn't release his grip on the sub's shirt, he wasn't stupid. As soon as the door was open, Greg cannoned into the younger man, wrapping his arms around him.

“What the...”

Greg was in a state.

Sherlock wrapped his arms around the DI protectively.

“Hey, mate,” John said with concern, “What's happened? Is Mycroft alright?”

That just made things worse. Sherlock looked over his shoulder at his Dom, his eyes wide and full of concern even as he held onto the older man as if for dear life.

“Come on,” John insisted going up the stairs backwards.

Trying to get the DI to comply with something as simple as walking seemed like mission impossible. To John's surprise, his boyfriend didn't think twice and scooped him up, holding him into his chest as he mounted the stairs after his doctor.

“Hush, Les.... Greg,” Sherlock urged. “It's not as bad as that. You're just tired and that makes it seem worse.”

John was gaping. What had this lanky stranger done with Sherlock?

The detective shot him a knowing look, then turned his attention back to the DI. “Mycroft won't hold this against you. If he can forgive me, after all I've done, I assure you he'll forgive you.”

“Sherlock,” John hissed, “What's going on?”

“You don't even know what I've done,” Greg's voice was low and almost broken.

“John, kettle,” Sherlock's two words were soft and the blond complied while the detective settled on the sofa.

“I'm guessing it's been pretty tough at work, right?”

The DI nodded into his shoulder.

“I'm sorry,” Sherlock whispered. “This is my fault.” He pulled his phone from his pocket and speed dialled Mycroft. “Yes brother-mine, he's here, now get your arse here too.” He closed his phone and threw it on the table.

“No, no, no,” Greg moaned. “He can't see me like this.”

“He can and he will.”

John appeared with a tray, it had four mugs on it, he was beginning to get as good at predicting Sherlock's actions as Sherlock was at predicting his.

It was mere minutes when the downstairs door opened and closed. Greg didn't move from where he was still somehow on the younger man's lap, just hid his face from the door.

Mycroft froze when he reached the flat, no umbrella as he'd left too much in a hurry. He leant against the door frame, unsure what to do.

“Don't just stand there gawping, Mycroft. Come in.”

John blinked and gave his head a rueful shake – Mycroft, not brother dear or brother-mine but Mycroft.

Still the government official hesitated. “Are you certain my presence is wanted?”

“It's not me who should be answering that.” Sherlock nodded at the copper on his lap.

Greg sniffed slightly, Mycroft had actually come. He wanted to see him, he hadn't ruined everything, not completely at least. He suddenly sprang to his feet and charged across the room. He paused before he reached the Dom though and dropped to his knees, unsure what the older man wanted and if he was still that man.

Mycroft, in an uncustomary show of emotion (uncustomary to Sherlock and John, anyway), fell to his knees in front of Greg's kneeling form. He took his sub in his arms and pulled him against his chest, releasing a sigh of relief when Greg let his head fall against his shoulder. “I know. You don't have to say anything.”


	2. Chapter 2

Greg didn't notice when John pulled Sherlock from the flat, so focused was he on Mycroft. His fingers were clutched in his Dom's coat. He was gripping tight enough that they were cramping.

“Shh,” Mycroft rocked him slightly, soothing him as he did. It was like the DI had reverted back to when he was a child, all conversation failing him, even the thought of it.

“God, I'm hopeless.” It was all pouring out of him. “One week. I couldn't last one fucking week without Sherlock.” He laughed bitterly. “I really am as hopeless as he always says I am.”

“Don't be absurd, you're quite competent.” He might be grateful to his brother for calling him when Greg had shown up, but he would happily punch him for ever having disparaged the man. Then again, he knew that was just Sherlock. If his brother wasn't throwing insults around willy-nilly, then something would be wrong with him. Greg should know that, it was just how Sherlock showed he cared and, judging by the time period that had elapsed before his arrival, Sherlock could be very consoling when he needed to be. Greg should also know he wouldn't be up for promotion if he was incompetent.

Mycroft stood, taking Greg with him, and relocated them to the sofa. “Forget this 'incompetent' nonsense.” He raked his fingers through Greg's hair. “And it is nonsense. Too many late nights with little sleep would tear anyone apart. Remember the Williams affair?”

The DI gave a little laugh. “I had to have Anthea kidnap you to get you to rest. You didn't even know what day it was.”

“Just so.”

“What day is it?”

Mycroft laughed a proper, deep laugh and Greg grinned. “Can we go home?”

Mycroft was about to stand when his phone pinged. He pulled it out of his pocket and read the message.

 _Tell him he's brilliant_ _\- SH_

It pinged again.

_Don't tell him I said that - SH_

It pinged yet again.

_He might realise he doesn't need me - SH_

A scuffle came from upstairs, then it pinged one last time.

_I've taken his mobile now, sorry about that - JW_

Greg was staring at Mycroft's open smile. The British Government tipped the phone so Greg could read the screen.

He held his finger to his lips. “Don't tell Sherlock.”

Greg offered a small smile, even though he didn't meet his eyes. “I can't believe I did that.”

“Did what?”

“As soon as the door opened, I grabbed hold of your brother. It was like two magnets.”

“Well, you two are alike in a lot of ways,” Mycroft observed.

Greg reached out, took the puzzled head of his Dom in his hands and gently twisted it this way and that.

“What are you doing, Gregory?”

“Checking to see if your head's on straight. A lot like your brother, indeed.”

“Well, you are. Apart from you both being subs in this sort of dynamic, you share an interest in your work that borders on obsession.”

“What and you don't?” At Mycroft's smirk he continued. “It's the decent pay I do it for, especially if I get this promotion.” He rested his head back on Mycroft's shoulder.

The government official rocked him slightly. “That's a lie and you know it. You ready to go now?”

Greg nudged his chin as he nodded.

“I'll go and find John.” Mycroft slipped from the room, pausing to glance back at his sub from the doorway. Greg still looked incredibly worn, but the tension he had been carrying was nowhere to be seen.

He found the doctor up in the spare bedroom. He was sitting, straddling Sherlock's thighs and smiling down at the detective. His head snapped up and he transferred his smile to Mycroft. “Is Greg all sorted?”

“For the moment, but he still needs rest. I just wanted to thank you both.”

John's face went soft. “It was mostly Sherlock's doing, taking care of Greg. Maybe I'll let him out of the flat a bit early as a reward.”

Sherlock's face lit up. “Really?”

“We'll see,” John smirked.

“That is a good idea,” Mycroft offered. “But shouldn't Sherlock be nice all the time?”

His brother shot Mycroft a glare.

“Yeah, I see what you mean.” John's tone wasn't angry, just slightly amused.

“But, John,” Sherlock protested, then remembered himself. “I mean, sir. It's Mycroft!” The sub sounded scandalised.

“Very observant, little brother.”

Sherlock poked his tongue out with a scowl. “Leave, brother dear.” He pointed at the door.

“Excuse me?” John interrupted him and grabbed the hand that had been pointing at the door. He pinned it to the bed. “Perhaps you should reconsider, boy.” He tightened his grip. “Ask your brother if he and Greg would like to stay for a bit. And ask nicely.”

Sherlock tried to wriggle away from John's grip to no avail. The doctor let him struggle for a bit before swatting him on the thigh.

Mycroft, for his part, just stood there, amused.

Another swat and Sherlock surrendered. “Would you and Greg like to stay, Mycroft?” He asked, despite knowing it was the middle of the night.

The Doms exchanged knowing glances, there was the unspoken promise of another day and time.

“Thank you, baby brother,” Mycroft's voice dripped honey, “but no. I think we'll be on our way.”

“You were going to be on your way whether I asked you nicely or not!” Sherlock snapped.

“Hey!” John barked. His glare made Sherlock freeze.

“Another time, John,” Mycroft called back to him as he made his way downstairs again. Greg was in a bundle, curled into the sofa like a rehoused cat when he found him.

Mycroft moved quietly to Greg's side, hating to disturb him, but knowing they needed to go home. “Gregory,” he whispered, “pet. It's time to go.”

The DI cracked open his eyes, giving him a lazy smile. “Don't wanna move.”

“Then I shall be forced to carry you.”

“Hmm,” he huffed non-committedly.

Mycroft smiled fondly and scooped him up in strong arms. “You know, this is the second time I have been forced to pick you up like an oversized toddler.”

“It's 'cause you like it, sir,” Greg explained.

“Yes, I do.” Mycroft dropped a kiss onto his sub's grey hair. “You fit quite nicely in my arms.”

“It means I can sleep, while you have to stay awake.”

Mycroft chuckled as he carried him down the stairs and out the flat. The driver climbed from the jaguar not at all bothered by the fact it was 2am, and held the door open for the duo.

Once inside the car, Greg sleepily tried to slip to the floor, but Mycroft stopped him. The Dom patted the leather seat next to him. “Lay down here and rest your head in my lap, Pet.” When the DI had complied, Mycroft rested his hand on his pet's shoulder. He started singing, soft and low, almost a hum “I'd like to build the world a home and furnish it with love, grow apple trees and honey bees and snow white turtle doves...”

Greg opened his eyes and shifted so that he could see his Dom's face. “You have got to be kidding.”

The government official blushed and shrugged. “Your mother sang it to you as a child.”

“I… yes, how'd you know that? Who am I kidding, of course you know.”

“It came on once on the radio in your office. You recorded at and tagged it under, ‘Mum's song’.”

“Have you been going through my phone, Mycroft Holmes?”

“Of course. I am a Holmes, after all.”

Greg gave an enormous yawn and rolled onto his side. The seat was a bit cramped for such a position, but he had his knees tucked in tight and laying like this allowed him to rest his face against Mycroft's not-at-all-flabby stomach. “I really am sorry, Sir.”

“Sorry for what?” When there was no response, he tried again. “Pet?”

A soft snore was the answer and Mycroft smiled down at the top of his head. He really had found someone special.


	3. Chapter 3

Greg sat, slouched in his office chair the following day, still tense, but due to the fact that a decision was going to be made about the new DCI job. Times like this made him doubt himself despite Mycroft's faith in his abilities, maybe because of that faith. What if he didn't get the promotion? Would Mycroft think less of him?

His head hit the desk repeatedly until there was a knock at the door. He rubbed his eyes tiredly and glanced up. “Come in.”

He sighed nearly silently when he realised time was really up. If he didn't get the job this time he wouldn't bother again, it would be too embarrassing at work and at home, seeing how far Mycroft had got in such a short space of time. He tried to deduce if he had got the promotion, but gave it up quickly. He was far too keyed up to attempt a Holmesian deduction.

He stood up to shake his boss' hand and then indicated the seat opposite his desk. The much older man in front of him wore a knowing grin. “Congratulations,” was all he said.

Greg wanted to slump with relief, but knew it wouldn't be very professional. He did, however, allow himself to return a huge grin along with his thanks. They discussed the details pertaining to his new position and the date it would go into effect. The whole time he imagined Mycroft's inevitable 'I told you so.'

“Well, finish up those forms and you better head off, I'm sure that partner of yours has some plans.”

Greg was about to question what the older man meant, but stopped himself and settled for, “Yes, sir, that's a great idea.”

As the other man left, Greg collapsed back into his seat, quickly scribbling through the forms on his desk that he'd just been given. Then he stood up, grabbed his coat and locked his office door behind him.

When he got to the front of the NSY building, he scowled at the sight of the sedan, but grinned as Mycroft climbed out.

He ran to him and grabbed him in a hug, all the while the government official was trying to make out that he wasn't being hugged to death in the middle of the street.

He pulled back. “You knew! You knew the job was mine!”

Mycroft's guilty grin was all he needed to know.

Taking Greg's hand in his own, Mycroft confessed, “I know everything that goes on at the Yard. I make it my business to know. But Gregory,” he waited until he had his boyfriend's full attention, “I never interfere where your job is concerned. Well, where your position is concerned, I should say. This promotion was justly earned and based completely on merit.”

“And had absolutely no connection to the fact that I'm shagging the British Government?”

“Of course not.” Mycroft pulled him down into the back of his car and pushed him to his knees.

“I should hope you are much more amenable to being a good sub tonight, DCI Lestrade?”

Greg grinned. “I'll do whatever you want.”

“Mmm, those are dangerous words to tell your Dom, pet.”

“I know, sir, but I trust you and I want to celebrate.” Greg lay his head in Mycroft's lap and let out a happy sigh.

“Then you'll allow me to take you out for dinner.”

The DCI's head snapped up.

“Oh, don't worry, pet, we will be playing later, but I thought a nice trip to Le Gavroche, first.”

“You mean the place that costs over £300 for one meal?”

Mycroft smiled and cupped his cheek while leaning down to kiss him.

“You're worth it.” At Greg's frown he continued. “And I'm proud of you.”

“You're going to make me wear that posh suit aren't you?”

Mycroft cleared his throat pointedly.

“Sir?”

“Better. And yes. You have copper's suits and then nice ones.”

“Hey!”

Mycroft looked mock chastised for a moment before winking at the kneeling man. “Copper's suits which you carry off very well, pet.”

That earned him a lopsided smile that positively lit up the DCI's face. “Not as well as you carry off those leathers I got for you last month.”

Mycroft blushed. He had felt positively ridiculous in those leathers until he had walked into the living room and seen Greg's appreciative, smile wasn't the proper word - Greg had positively leered. “Would you like me to wear them later when we play?”

“You're the Dom,” was all the younger man offered.

As they clambered from the back of the car back at their apartment, Mycroft leaned down, scooped the DCI up and threw him over his shoulder.

Greg barked a laugh. He was in too good a mood to be embarrassed at being carried like a bag of cement. Looking down, he saw something he liked. “That's a very nice arse.”

Mycroft gave the DCI's bum a playful swat, nothing to really cause pain, just a love pat. “I'm glad you find the view acceptable.”

“It would be even more acceptable the other way around.”

It was Mycroft's turn to laugh. He took him through the hallway and dropped him on their bed.

“Shower and suit. Table's book for 7.”

Greg glanced at the clock. “Half 4, this is the earliest I've been out of work in weeks.” He reached up, grabbed the Dom's hand and pulled him atop of himself. “We have two and a half hours to do what we want.”

Mycroft rolled them over and pinned him beneath him. “If I fuck you now, we'll both be shattered and I want tonight to be special.” At the sub's pout he added, “Please.” He never said please.

Greg rolled off the bed, pretending to stomp towards the bathroom and throwing clothes off as he went.

Mycroft smiled fondly at his retreating form and followed. In mere moments they were both naked and, in their considerably sized shower, the Dom had forced the younger man to his knees. “By all means suck.”

The newly instated DCI went promptly to work, swallowing his Dom down in one go. The moan he received as a result was incredibly satisfying as were the hands gripping his hair. He began to hum around Mycroft's cock as he massaged the twin globes of his arse. Then, after a bit, he cheekily let one finger glide over the pucker of his Dom's entrance.

“That's... God, Gregory.” Mycroft was finding it incredibly hard not to thrust into the DCI's mouth. “You're quite enthusiastic.”

“Mhhhmhhmmmmhhhmh.”

Mycroft blinked down at him after a few seconds where he thought he might suffocate through pleasure. He pulled Greg off with a pop. The kneeling man didn't look up, there was too much water falling on him to do that.

“Next time you want to speak, don't do it around my cock.”

“Of course, sir, whatever you wish.”

“Now what did you just say?”

“I said, _sir_ , that I had a lot to be enthusiastic about.”

“You are sometimes a ridiculous man, Gregory.” His laughing tone turned serious, “You do know that I love you, no matter your rank?”

“Of course I do.” Greg gave Mycroft's cock a lick. “But you're happy for me and I appreciate that.” Now, he teased at his Dom's balls, giving them little nips and licks before returning his attention to his glorious cock.

“Starting to regret booking that table, pet,” Mycroft panted. He began to thrust in, there was no way he could resist anymore.

He'd always told Sherlock that caring wasn't an advantage, as he looked down at the man he irrevocably loved he had no idea how wrong he had been. All those years of pretending not to care, only made himself out to be a liar with the way he always protected his baby brother but as he stood watching the man he loved there was only one thing that could top how wrong he had been. That wrongness loved him back.

Greg pulled off, sensing some of Mycroft's thoughts. “You need to stop thinking. You do it too much.” He stood, running his hands along his Dom's sides and finally resting them on his shoulders. “And I know what you were thinking. Yes, Mr. Holmes, I can read you like an open book. You were busy being amazed that you were loved. Next, you would have been thinking that you don't deserve it. Well, you do.” Greg gave Mycroft a slow kiss before dropping back to his knees in front of his stunned Dom.

Mycroft's hand in his hair stopped him going back to suckling on his cock.

“I've always told Sherlock that caring isn't an advantage.”

Before he could think, Greg laughed. “Thank God he figured out what a load of shit that was. Sorry, sorry.” He grew more serious. “I know you really believed it, or you never would have said it. I'm sorry you ever felt that way.”

 “You're going to need to apologise better than that, brat.”

Greg frowned in confusion, “sir?”

“Kiss my feet.”

The DCI looked down at Mycroft's feet and shrugged. He started by kissing just above his toes, then impulsively flicked his tongue out and licked between each digit. Unexpectedly, Mycroft gave a laugh and jerked his foot back.

“Aww, is the British Government ticklish?”

“No!” Mycroft snapped far too quickly.

Greg laughed and picked up his big toe between his teeth.

“Don't you dare tell my brother!”

“What will you do to me if I do?”

“Not what you expect. I'll send you on a case in France. With Sherlock. Without John.”

Greg somehow – not even Mycroft knew how – managed to choke on his toe. He forgot about the water as he looked up.

“Where the bloody hell did that even come from?”

In response, Mycroft... giggled. It was something that happened on occasion, but it was still rare enough to catch Greg by surprise. “Can you imagine a more effective punishment? He'd be climbing the walls without John there to keep him occupied. And you would have to put up with it.”

“I think that would be classified as cruel and unusual punishment. So…” Greg renewed his ticklish assault on his Dom's feet. “I've got blackmail material for life now.”

“Get a move on, my cock's cold.”

Licking Mycroft's foot one last time, he knelt up and took in the, by now, extremely hard cock.

This was perhaps the silliest they had ever been together. Greg found that he quite liked it. He wanted to show Mycroft just how much, so he set to work with renewed vigour, licking, sucking and using the barest scrape of his teeth.

Mycroft relaxed back against the tiled surface of the wall and ran both his hands through the greying hair in front of him. “If I'm not in the land of bliss in the next 5 minutes you won't be for 5 days.”

Had his mouth not been stuffed full of cock, Greg would have smirked. Was it really possible that Mycroft hadn't figured out he had a little trick he could use to make him come? Then again, he probably wasn't in the best condition to observe when the DCI did it.

Greg bobbed a few times on his Dom's lovely cock, swirling his tongue just so. He could tell by the tension in Mycroft's frame that he was almost there.

Mycroft's head hit the wall through the pleasure his sub was giving him and he closed his eyes.

“10, boy…” he grunted. “9… 8…”

Greg tongued Mycroft's slit and gave another powerful suck and the British Government came in all his glory.

“Fuck, Gregory...”

The DCI struggled to swallow his release and managed it for the most part. Just a bit of milky white semen escaped the corner of his mouth.

Mycroft tightened his grip in his hair and pulled him up right, panting slightly. “We should get a move on.”

Greg leant in for a kiss. “I don't want to get a move on.”

“Oh, really?” Mycroft's eyebrow shot up. “I can make things interesting should you choose to cooperate or incredibly boring if you do not. What shall it be, Gregory?”

“After the week I've had, boring would be fantastic.”

“Well that was a lie.” Mycroft pointed to soap. “Now wash me, boy, I know how long it takes you to get ready.”

Greg rather enjoyed washing his Dom. Anything that allowed him to run his hands over Mycroft's surprisingly muscled body. His body was perfect, though the government official would be quick to disagree. That would be why he covered it in his suits.

“Right, boy, out!”

Grumbling and moaning Greg crawled from the shower, he couldn't be bother to stand up so just pulled the towel from the rail and knelt waiting for his Dom.

Mycroft stepped out of the shower and enjoyed the sensation of Greg drying him off. His sub was quite thorough, kissing what seemed like every inch of his body as he went.

The Dom kicked his half hard length between the kneeling man legs as his socks were pulled up over his feet. “I might pop that in a cage, Gregory, it is ever so tempting. In fact, I think I shall. And I'll stuff your hole with a nice thick, vibrating plug. Would you like that, pet, being kept open for me, on the edge whilst we dine?”

Greg looked at him with a mixture of desire and disbelief. “You want me to go to that posh place with a plug up my arse?”

“You're right, a DCI would never put himself in such a compromising position.”

Greg sighed in relief.

“But you're a DCI as of next Tuesday.”

Greg's eyes went wide. “You're serious.”

“As the proverbial heart attack. Now run along, pet. Go get on the bed and open yourself up. I'll be along directly.”

Still not standing, the sub crawled to their room. He paused to take a bottle of lube from the dresser then climbed on the bed. It was with a heightened sense of titillation that he poured a generous amount of lube in his hand and started working his fingers into his entrance.

“Well aren't you a gorgeous thing?” Mycroft purred from the door. Greg's entrance by this point was considerably wider than it had been in the shower. “But I fear you may be right, it is your special night and it is a posh restaurant…”

Greg managed not to say 'fucking hell', but it was a close thing. Instead he collapsed in a frustrated heap.

“Since you insist...”

“Wait! It's... I don't know what I want.”

“Well of course you don't, that's why you've got me.”

Mycroft knelt behind the heap of his sub and spun him over. He grabbed his wrists and pinned them above his head as he leant over him.

Greg moaned as Mycroft gently slid into him. He honestly hadn't expected it, but it felt more than good and he was so very grateful. “Ah, sir. Thank you! Jesus, but I need this. Need you.”

“I know, Gregory.” Mycroft was moving soft and slow. It was more like making love than fucking. He didn't even bother to get faster just moved slowly and surely, watching his sub's cock spring to life and harden further.

Realising he didn't have long, Mycroft reached around and under the bed where he collected a cock cage. It was fitted around Greg before he knew what was happening.

“Mycroft!” He snapped, his eyes opening immediately.

“What was that, boy?” He asked, sternness creeping into his voice.

Greg bit his lip, but didn't open his mouth.

Mycroft pulled free and moved to the drawers throwing some pants at him.

“Sir, I meant sir!”

“Of course you did. Now get dressed, we're going out for dinner aren't we?”

Greg glared down at the silky black pants in his hand and thought 'bugger'. He had been right on the edge, about to tip over the precipice. His frown turned into a happy grin. There were worse things than a slow burn. In fact, he rather looked forward to being teased senseless. It would be all the better when he was finally allowed to come.

It took him less than five minutes to put on the suit that Mycroft found so appealing. Looking in the mirror, he acknowledged that he did, in fact, look pretty damned good for an aging DI, strike that, DCI. Feeling cheeky, he gave himself a wink.

“Are you flirting with yourself, Gregory?”

Mycroft came from the bathroom also dressed.

The DCI froze where he was, mouth agape.

“What?”

“You look gorgeous, Myc.”

The government official blushed. “You always say that.”

“Because it's always true.” It was obvious Mycroft didn't agree, so Greg showed him with a kiss.

“I would kiss you again, but you've locked my cock away like some common criminal.”

“Oh, come on Gregory, the criminals you chase are nowhere near so easy to catch.”

“Oi! No need to be insulting. It's not like I wave it about at just anyone.” He crossed his arms and huffed. “As if I'm easy.”

“I do believe that for me you are.”

“That sounds like a challenge, Mr. Holmes.”

“A challenge you've already lost I'm afraid, pet.” He cupped Greg's cock in its cage through his pants. “1-0, I believe the term is.”

Greg, normally one with a quick comeback, stood there gaping like a fish out of water.

Mycroft patted his cheek, then turned and positively sauntered from the room, leaving a gobsmaked DCI behind.


	4. Chapter 4

A doorman held the door open as Mycroft and Greg entered the posh restaurant. The DCI was amazed that he had actually become accustomed to such places. The first time his Dom had taken him out 'for a bite', Greg had found himself gaping like an imbecile at his surroundings.

They were shown to their table, by the window looking out over the Thames. But before the waiter could pull the chair out for Greg, Mycroft got there first. This, too, was something that Greg had become accustomed to. It was one of his boyfriend's idiosyncrasies. In the past, the DCI had been allowed to turn the tables on Mycroft a few times. He doubted that would happen now that his boyfriend was also his Dom.

He waited until the waiter had taken their drink order before he spoke. He reached across the table and took hold of his lover's hand. “If we were in any other restaurant I would kneel beside you.”

Mycroft's mouth twitched and the fire of desire burned in his eyes. It was a deep desire, one that encompassed more than just the physical. Seeing it, Greg blushed.

A bottle of champagne in a tin bucket full of ice appeared and the same waiter as before poured their drinks.

“A celebration, Mr. Holmes?”

“Of course, Oscar, my partner has been promoted at work. Again.”

The waiter turned his attention to Greg. “Congratulations, sir. I'm sure it's well deserved.”

The DCI grasped his champagne glass, just to have something to occupy his hand. Turning it absently, he gave a self-deprecating shrug. “I hope my boss doesn't decide he made a mistake.”

Mycroft's glare would have made its way through solid steel. “That will never happen.”

“Have you decided what to order?”

Mycroft stared at his sub for one more minute before turning to the waiter once more and ordering for them both.

After Oscar had left, Greg leant across the table. “I didn't mean it, Myc. It's just the kind of thing you say. Like, 'Pinch me and let me see if I'm dreaming.'“

The government official let out a small sigh. “I know Gregory, but you deserve this promotion. You've worked hard for it. I'm just not certain that you really believe that.”

The DCI took Mycroft's hand in his own, running his fingers over it gently. “Maybe it's having your genius little brother hanging around all the time that makes me wonder. I don't know. Would I be where I am without him?”

“Yes,” the Dom hissed. “Have you ever considered that you got the promotion despite him not because of him?”

“He's the reason I made sergeant all those years ago, Myc, Sherlock's actually… well, you saw what he was like… the other day when I kind of ran off.”

Mycroft's gaze softened a bit at Greg's words. “I wasn't condemning my brother, Gregory. I know he's had his good moments over the years, but your influence over him has been extraordinary. Between your influence and John, he's becoming, what do you like to say? A good man.” The Dom cleared his throat. “Now, enough about my brother.” Lifting Greg's hand, he placed a kiss to his palm. “Tonight is about us, about you.”

“I just want to have a great meal and then let you do whatever you want with me when we get in.”

“I've already told you that saying that sort of thing to your Dom is a very dangerous comment indeed.”

Greg grinned a mischievous grin. “You can do whatever you want with me when we get in,” he repeated.

Their food didn't take long, Mycroft had ordered the same for the both of them and the chef was an old friend. Mycroft topped both the glasses up before digging in.

Greg placed his fork on his plate momentarily mesmerised by Mycroft's hands. Noticing, the Dom paused in eating, one eyebrow raised in question.

“You have gorgeous hands, Myc.”

“That was absolutely the most random thing I think I have ever heard, let alone from you.”

Greg quirked a grin. “Not really.” Reaching across the table, he took Mycroft's right hand in his own. Idly, he played with the ring on his boyfriend's ring finger. “I was just watching you eat, and got drawn in by your hands. I was thinking of the things you can do with them.” Noting the twinkle in Mycroft's eyes, he added, “And not just that. They're strong hands, but elegant. I adore them.”

“Hurry up and eat, boy, you're making me incredibly uncomfortable.”

Greg chuckled and went back to his own meal, but not before pinching a piece of chicken off his Dom's plate. Leaning back as he chewed, the DCI considered the length of the table cloth and their relative private location in the restaurant. Toeing off his shoes, he lifted his foot and placed it in Mycroft's lap. There was indeed a prominent bulge to be found there.

Mycroft jerked back. “I was planning on playing with you when we got home, but I think I might take you to the playroom. It will be incredibly clean now since my brother has scrubbed it. In fact, that was quite amusing to watch… the hood and duster…”

Greg's foot went still. “Wait, what? When?”

“Oh, this happened a few days ago. Remember when you told him thank you?”

The DCI nodded mutely.

“It was after that. Of course the story would pale in the telling, Gregory. Perhaps you'd care to watch the footage for yourself?”

“You recorded your brother…”

“Crawling around the room, with a humbler whilst he was continually annoying John to the point where he shoved a hood over his head and forced him to dust with the duster in his mouth. It was most amusing. See, this is why you shouldn't stay at work late every night for weeks.”

The bulge under Greg's foot hadn't softened in the slightest, a fact that the DCI found interesting. “Was it only amusing, sir?”

Mycroft blushed, then raised his glass, draining it in one go.

“Eat now, Gregory and not another word until you're done.”

“Or what?”

Mycroft leant over the table and pulled the DCI up by his tie he kissed him chastely before sitting back down. “Not another word.”

Feet back on the floor, the younger man set about cleaning his plate of food. Thankfully, he had almost finished everything before his Dom had made his proclamation and he finished in short order. Greg placed his silverware primly at the top of his plate, indicating that his place could be cleared. Sitting back in his chair, he waited for Mycroft to do likewise. He got so caught up with staring at his Dom's hands that he didn't notice the same waiter as before clear his plate and top his glass up again.  

“Have you developed a hand fetish, pet?” Mycroft voice was pitched so that it wouldn't carry, but that did nothing to reduce its seductive quality.

Greg ran his fingers through his silver-grey hair. “Um, maybe?”

Mycroft chuckled and stood. He held his hand out for Greg. “I would say let's stay for dessert, but I'm extremely uncomfortable as it is.”

The Dom then did something he never did. He pushed his hand into the pocket of his trousers to rearrange his cock and dragged Gregory to the door.

“Myc, need to pay.”

“No, we don't.”

Greg shrugged, of course not. Mycroft probably owned the place. The DI didn't try to figure these things out any more. The proprietary hand on the back of his neck might have been an additional damper on his curiosity. He was pulled down into the back seat of the newest version of Mycroft's car.

“The club, Billy,” Mycroft called through, pushing Greg to his knees between his legs.

The produced ring gag made Greg gawp. “Where did that come from?”

“Oh, pet, you have a lot to learn. There are all sorts in my cars.”

He pushed the gag into Greg's waiting mouth and buckled it up. Then he unzipped his fly.

The DCI only had time to give the presence of Billy a fleeting thought before his mouth was fully engaged in his task. Mycroft had pulled him up slightly so that he could thrust into his pet's mouth with abandon. It was quick and dirty and over all too soon for Greg's satisfaction.

Mycroft laughed at his pet's groan of distress. “That was just to take the edge off, Pet. Never fear, I have much more in store for you tonight.” As the Dom spoke, he thrust his fingers through the ring and played idly with Greg's tongue.

Greg was so distracted by sucking on the fingers he had been fantasising about all night that he didn't notice Mycroft had undone his tie. With a grunt, Greg was face down on the floor of the car, Mycroft grabbing both arms and tying his wrists together behind him. Mycroft's foot came to rest on his arse and pushed down. There was barely room for his body in the cramped space of the floor. Greg let out a low groan. His own cock was hard and throbbing as he lay in his awkward position.

“You like being manhandled where Billy can see it,” Mycroft observed. “Perhaps I should arrange an audience for our play.”

At that, the sub whined low in his throat, more turned on than he cared to admit it himself.

“But not tonight, pet. Not tonight.”

Mycroft shifted in his seat so one foot rested on his arse and the other was at his neck, keeping his head down.

The sub's breath was coming fast, now, and small trails of spittle were leaking from his open mouth, but he was completely unaware of the fact. All that seemed to matter was being good for Mycroft. He stilled beneath the older man and waited out the rest of the journey. He was concentrating on staying so still that he didn't notice the car pull up. Mycroft climbed out first and then scooped him up. Greg kicked a bit, uncomfortable with being seen in such a state in public. At least it was night and the streets were not as crowded as they could have been. It took a moment for the DCI to realise where they were and he relaxed. They were at the back of the club, the playroom, it was deserted around here because the slightest toe out of place and Mycroft's minions would be there.

Inside the club, Mycroft deposited his pet on the floor. “Really, pet. You know I'm more protective of your reputation than you are.”

Greg could only look up at his Dom and nod. He couldn't even kneel up properly without Mycroft's help. But Mycroft didn't help. He just left him on the floor and walked towards the kitchen, smirking all the way. Greg let out what should have been a wail, but ended up to be just a huff of indignant air.

In the kitchen, Mycroft took out a bowl and filled it with ice cubes, humming contentedly all the while. After a moment’s thought he pushed the button on the kettle and made himself a coffee. He carried both out to where his boy had managed to use the sofa he'd scrambled to, to kneel up. Mycroft set the coffee and bowl down on a nearby table, then crossed his arms and simply looked at Greg for a moment. His boy squirmed under the scrutiny, very obviously aroused. “You're such a lovely pet, Gregory, already hard for me and desperate.” Sitting down on the sofa, Mycroft leant forward and started unbuttoning his boy's shirt. He threw it open like a set of curtains and pulled him to his feet, by the tie still around his neck. He unbuckled the gag and kissed him with a passion that he didn't know he had in him. It must have stemmed from pride, he realised. He picked his boy up once more and dropped him onto the sofa, his kissing never faltering.

The DCI had no chance to prepare himself before a single cube of ice was pressed to his nipple. “J... Jesus! Myc – sir. But that's fucking cold.”

Mycroft grinned wickedly, but didn't stop running the ice over the sensitive nub. “It's meant to be,” he noted, then switched the ice cube to Greg's other nipple. At the same time, he brought his mouth down to the chilled, peaked nipple and sucked it in between his lips. He bit once and Greg's knee jerked in a spasmodic reaction, he caught his Dom in the balls. 

Mycroft let out an “oomph” and doubled over gasping.

“Shit! Sorry, Mycroft. Damn!” Greg couldn't wrap his arms around the other man or do anything at all to help. It was a miserable feeling. He didn't know what to do so stared for a moment as Mycroft fell off the side of the chair trying to get his breath back.

Finally, the other man had regained his composure enough to turn and glare at Greg. “That, pet, was not good.”

“Sorry, Mycroft. Really. Are you going to be okay?”

“I am, but I can't say the same for you.”

The sub bit his lip, nervously, that action alone made him look so many years younger.

“Stay,” the Dom ordered with a glare.

Swallowing around the new lump in his throat, Greg nodded, too scared to talk. He daren't look up when Mycroft came back over and he let himself be manhandled and pushed face first into the sofa. Mycroft untied his wrists and for an antagonising long second Greg thought this was all over but the Dom just replaced the tie with rope, tough and biting into his skin. Then he was pulled from the chair and forced to bend over double on his knees, much like Mycroft had moments ago. The government official grabbed his mug of coffee, collapsed back into his chair and kicked his feet up, resting on the sub's back. Greg's shoulders started aching from the odd position he was holding. He bit his lip, trying not to make any sound - his discomfort was far less than Mycroft's had been. He closed his eyes, wishing he was gagged. A gag meant there was not a sound that would disappoint Mycroft further. He tasted blood as his tooth went through his lip.

Mycroft heard Greg let out a little broken noise. It wasn't one of his boy's normal sounds, it sounded too raw. “Boy?” The DCI didn't respond, so Mycroft dropped his feet to the floor and leaned forward. “Gregory, pet?”

Greg shook his head as best he could, still not willing to speak.

“Come on, Gregory, kneel up for me.”

Greg shook his head again, letting his head fall to the floor. His fists clenched behind him. He wished Mycroft would put his feet back on him - use him, like he should.

Mycroft took his sub by his shoulders and lifted him up bodily so he could see his face. His eyes were drawn immediately to the blood at Greg's mouth. “Oh, Gregory.” Mycroft gently touched the wound. “Pet, love. You shouldn't have hurt yourself.”

The sub stared at the floor between his knees. Mycroft leant over for a bit of ice that hadn't melted as much as it could have done and held it to his lip. The sub pushed his hand away. “I deserve it.”

“You shouldn't have hurt yourself,” Mycroft repeated firmly.

“I only bit my lip, it's not the end of the world.”

Mycroft shook his head. “And, believe it or not, neither is getting kneed in the groin. Though it hurt like a bitch.”

That last bit surprised a broken laugh out of Greg. “I bet it did.” The sub looked around awkwardly, unsure what to do next. He just hunched his shoulders, trying to stretch them out a bit. Oddly enough Mycroft was feeling the exact same. What to do next?

After some time, Greg sighed and rolled his head on his neck. That seemed to snap the Dom out of his almost trance and he ordered the DCI to lean forward. “Let me untie you, Gregory, so you can work some blood back into your arms.”

Rather than obeying Greg jerked back, shaking his head slightly. “I kicked you in the bollocks, don't I deserve a bit of discomfort?”

Mycroft chased Greg with his body, not letting him get too far away. He bent forward and kissed the bloody spot on his lip. “Your body is mine, Gregory. You've given it to me of your own free will. I choose when and how much you hurt as well as your pleasure.

“But I hurt you.”

“It was an accident, I probably should have made sure your legs weren't between mine. Next time I will. Now, let me untie your arms, pet.” At Greg's frown, he added, “I have other plans, don't worry.”

Greg turned, presenting his arms to his Dom. Mycroft removed the rope that was around his boy's wrists and started massaging first them then his shoulders.

“Maybe we should stick to the leather cuffs in the future.” Mycroft pulled the rest of Greg's shirt off and then pulled him back, so he slipped off his knees and into his lap. Greg grunted, which caused his Dom to laugh. “That's better.” Mycroft started kissing along his boy's shoulder.

“I really didn't mean-”

“Shh,” Mycroft cut him off. “It's ok. I know you didn't.” He went back to trailing kisses across Greg's back. Just as the sub finally started relaxing into it, Mycroft toppled him off his lap and back onto the floor. The DCI let out a muffled 'umph' as he landed in a heap. He looked up at his Dom as Mycroft stood. He found him staring down at him with lust in his eyes. “You know, I never thought I could love someone as much as I love you.”

Mycroft then turned and walked away, much to his sub's confusion. “Myc...” The Dom turned and gave him a pointed glare. “Sorry, sir.”

The older man turned again and Greg watched, perplexed. He had just said he loved him and now he was walking away… where was he going?

Mycroft opened a drawer in a small table and pulled out something long and cylindrical, then turned and leaned against the table. He held the object out so Greg could see it. It clearly wasn't a typical dildo, it appeared somehow too hefty for that. Mycroft gave his boy a placid smile. “I told you that you have a lot to learn, boy. This is known as a fucking stick. But first, I need to tie you up.”

Greg smiled at that, but was still looking oddly dubious at the sight of the stick in Mycroft's hand.

The Dom slipped his usual collar around his neck and tugged him towards the low bench in the corner. He pulled his trousers off and threw them over another bench.

“Of course, you know what an anal hook is, don't you, boy?”

“Y-yes, sir,” he stammered. He had done a bit of research, but that didn't really help to know what it felt like.

His Dom pushed him down so he was on hands and knees on the bench, then down again so he was on his elbows and began systematically tying, first his knees, then his elbows to the bench, he finished with his feet and his wrists. Mycroft, next set about lubing up his fingers and working them in his hole. Once he had him spread open enough and his pet was whimpering prettily beneath him Mycroft eased the hook in, the length of rope it was hanging from came from the rafters up above them and the Dom tightened it off accordingly.

Everything had seemed to happen so fast for the sub, but that didn't bother him, not really, to be able to place so much trust in one person was an amazing thing.

Mycroft gave the DCI just long enough to begin to worry that he had gone before he replaced the hook with the stick, the dildo on the end was indeed as tough as it looked and when Mycroft tied it off so the angle was just beyond comfortable, Greg felt even more impaled than he had with the hook.

The government official paced around in front of the younger man and tugged his head back by his hair. “Do you feel all full, boy?”

“Yes, sir,” Greg replied nervously. He was certain he had missed something. With a wicked grin, Mycroft leant over his boy, flicking a switch on the stick. Greg jerked in his bonds as it started pounding into him and the ring of beads on the stick started rotating, providing an added level of stimulation. The DCI dropped his head between his arms and could almost see it thumping into him.

“You know how brilliant this is? I can leave you there like that and go and make that dessert we didn't get at the restaurant.”

That filled the sub with alarm. “No, sir! Please!'

Mycroft tutted and fetched a gag, it was a ball gag this time, and he skilfully buckled it in place. With a sharp slap to his boy's arse, he walked away, stopping just out of Greg's field of vision.

The bound man closed his eyes and tried to breathe deeply through the continuous thrusting of some machine. He would have gritted his teeth if he could have done when the machine picked up its pace, reaching in farther than Greg thought was possible. Did Mycroft have to leave that blasted cage on his cock? He had been trying his best to ignore it but now…

Mycroft watched Greg's muscles work. They were flexing in the most fascinating way all along his back, legs and arms. Even the muscles of his arse clenched and released beautifully. He would be satisfied to watch his boy for quite some time, at least until Greg was a complete and sweaty wreck.

‘Some time’ wasn't as long as he had hoped, though, Greg appeared to completely give up and his whole body went slack, the continual piston of the fake cock going in at an awkward, uncomfortable angle.

“Is that it, boy?” Mycroft asked scornfully. “Is that the best you can do?” He stepped over and pulled Greg's head up by the hair. “How very disappointing.” With that, he released his grip on Greg's hair and quickly fetched a riding crop.

Greg didn't seem to have the energy to straighten himself out again, so he stayed where he was, shattered from the week of hell with some dildo doing its own thing with his hole while his Dom did what he wanted with the rest of him.

Mycroft stroked the riding crop over Greg's arse and back, then leaned down to speak in his boy's ear. “You said I could do anything to you tonight, but you look so exhausted, pet.” He kissed Greg's earlobe. “If you need me to stop, nod your head now.” Mycroft stepped back waiting for a response.

He couldn't bring a stop to this, not after that. He had promised Mycroft anything, anything at all and he would give it to him. He shook his head, then promptly screamed around the gag as the riding crop bit into his back.

As more stokes fell in every part Mycroft could reach Greg was caught between coming with his cock caged which was near on impossible and sink further and further into his exhaustion.

Mycroft could see his sub was about to break, so he tossed the crop across the room and reached under Greg to grasp his caged cock firmly in his hand. “You want to come, don't you, boy?”

Greg didn't even have the energy to nod. That was unacceptable, so Mycroft shifted his hand to squeeze Greg's bollocks painfully. That at least earned him a groan. “My poor, tired sub.” With his other hand, Mycroft shifted the still pounding stick. “What would you do to have this out, I wonder?”

The sub's eyes flickered closed and the top of his head rested on the floor, his jaw held wide by the ball still in his mouth.

Mycroft flicked the device off and removed it from Greg's hole. The DCI gave the faintest of whimpers as it slid out, leaving him gaping. He was too exhausted to be more expressive. Unfastening his pet's arms from the bench, Mycroft lifted Greg up and back so that he was in a hunched kneeling position. There were tears trailing down his sub's face. Mycroft ran his fingers through them thoughtfully.

“Are you upset because I removed it from your hole, pet?”

Greg's head ducked forward, drool leaking out around the gag.

“It's ok, I can fix that. I've got something new for you to try.”

Mycroft left Greg in his awkward position and reappeared with something that looked crossed between a belt and a harness. He re-tied his wrists behind him so he couldn't interfere, but Mycroft doubted he physically could even if he wanted to.

“This, is known as a chastity belt. You've been in that cage all evening, well I'm going to let you out if it. For a while anyway.” Mycroft set about buckling the leather belt around his waist and then Greg felt something else hard pushing into him. He let out a broken moan as a new dildo shape that tilted at the end slightly to rest against his prostate was positioned. Mycroft brought the strap down between his legs pushing the correct loops over first his leaking cock and then his balls. The DCI jolted as it pressed up against the new plug in his arse and was tied off tight behind him. Mycroft fitted a different cage over his cock once again and attached it to the belt with a small padlock. “One day I may even stick a little rod in your cock, but for now...” He released his legs from their rope confines and pulled him shakily to his feet.

Greg's knees buckled as the plug jerked inside of him. Mycroft lowered him to the floor and the feeling of some sort of balloon hit his foot. Mycroft picked it up again and pumped it a few times, the plug inside of him inflated at each squeeze. Greg's eyes bulged with surprise, he hadn't known such things existed. He began trembling with fatigue and just a bit of fear. Never had he been stretched so wide, it felt like he was being split open. Just before he genuinely started to panic, his Dom stopped pumping the bulb.

“Hush, pet,” Mycroft soothed. “You promised me everything and I'm going to take it. I'll never damage you.” He gave one of Greg's nipples a violent twist. “But I will delight in hurting you.” The burst of pain had Greg gasping around the gag, but he didn't try to pull away from it, so Mycroft twisted his nipple all the harder, wanting to see the sub break.

Greg sagged, surrendering to the Dom.

Mycroft realised his pet had broken half an hour ago when the dildo had begun pumping into him. He smiled and pinched his other nipple. Greg's head dropped forward, he was beyond exhausted and the thing in his arse felt like it would burst any moment.

“Oh, pet. You're so lovely like this, tired and broken. So broken, I'm almost tempted to stop... but what would be the fun in that?” Wrapping his arms around Greg, Mycroft raked his nails along his back. He didn't draw blood, but the pressure he used left glowing red trails that would be visible for days. “I've fully recovered from the little incident earlier, feel that, pet.” He ground his erection into Greg's hip. “I don't fancy going to bed in this state.” Reaching up, he deftly unbuckled the ball gag and removed it, then he stood and placed the head if his cock against the sagging sub's lips. “Now, don't make me do all the work. This doesn't end until I'm satisfied.”

Greg let out a choked sob and wrapped his mouth around the Dom's cock, Greg would wager he was almost as desperate as what he, himself was feeling right now.

The sub's ministrations were far less skilled than normal, they were sloppy and frantic. The irony was that Mycroft found it much more satisfying. Not intending to, he grabbed Greg by the hair and began thrusting furiously. He built up to a frantic pace, then stilled as he tipped over into orgasm.

By some force of will Greg didn't choke and managed to swallow all of Mycroft's load. He thought back to his rationalisations when Mycroft had first wrapped the cage around his cock. He had thought about how good it would be to be teased and then allowed to come, with a depressed yet silent sigh he realised that wasn't going to happen. His chin bowed to his chest in defeat.

Mycroft read the despair that Greg was feeling in his pet's demeanour. He was amazed that the other man hadn't used his safe word, that he had truly given him everything. “You're a remarkable man, Gregory. I've never known a sub like you.” He decided to put his pet to bed. He'd wake him in the morning by giving him a blow job. Greg had earned it after all.


End file.
